A Face I Know
by Musik34
Summary: Ch. 8 Update! Brennan sees her father and searches for answers to why he is still hiding. What happens when outside forces try to 'take out' Booth and Brennan? Set before second season. READ FIRST AUTHOR'S NOTE
1. Ghost

**A:N//** I wrote this fic before the second season premiere, so there are some things that don't 'adhere' to the storyline. I'm not changing anything that was original, just giving ya'll a heads up that if you see a character that's supposed to be dead now (hint hint), he was still very much alive when I wrote this. Hope it doesn't deter people from reading it crosses fingers. Feedback and reviews are love!

Chapter One: Ghost

"Dr. Brennan! When will your next novel come out? Will Dr. Kathy Reichs finally hit it off with her partner?"

Temperance Brennan stood at the podium under the harsh lights, but she was confident. She answered the reporter, "My next novel will be published sometime in August, and to the second part of that question, I don't know what you mean."

There was a ripple of laughter from her audience and a hand in the back shot up. "One last question before I have to leave; yes, you in the back."

The man stood up and boldly asked, "So who's the inspiration for the clever and handsome Andy Lister in your novels?"

Brennan raised her eyebrow as she immediately recognized the voice. _You rat's ass_, she thought. She answered slowly and forcefully, "For the record, none of my characters are based off any actual person."

She stood straighter as her publicist said some final words and the audience burst into clapping. If she had it her way, Brennan would go back to the lab. But her publicist insisted that she needed to 'mingle' for an after-conference party. _This is going to be hell_, she thought sourly.

"Hey Bones!" Seeley Booth made his way toward Brennan. When she turned around and saw him, her face grimaced. When he came next to her, she socked him in the gut.

"Jesus! Bones, what the hell?"

"What kind of question was that? I've told you many times that you're not the inspiration for my character," Brennan replied, amused that he was rubbing the spot she punched him.

"Come on, Bones, it was meant as a joke. Besides aren't you glad that I made it?" Booth said. His charm smile appeared.

"No," she answered simply. Booth chuckled and said, "Actually, I think you will be." A little louder, so Brennan's publicist could hear he said, "You know that case that we have? That we really need to investigate today…"

Brennan's publicist turned around and said, "Dr. Brennan you didn't tell me you had a case today. And here I am, forcing you to stay here, I'm sorry, you go right ahead."

"I don't—" Brennan started but Booth placed his hand on her back and started ushering her outside. Booth whispered in her ear, "I know, but unless you want to spend the next two hours 'mingling', I suggest you go along with it." Suddenly Brennan understood and she laughed.

"Now are you glad that I came?" Booth asked again.

As serious as she could sound, she answered, "Nope."

Before Booth could retort something, Brennan stopped in her tracks. They had just stepped outside and the freezing December wind bit at them sharply. Her heart pounded as she focused on the face across the street. His hair was brown but streaked with a lot of gray. His eyes were brown and stressed. Overall, he looked haggard, and fifteen years older than what he would've been. When his eyes met Brennan's his jaw dropped in panic. He started to run.

Brennan followed, sprinting as hard as she could. She could barely hear Booth cry out for her. Events from several months ago rushed her mind and gave her an adrenaline rush. Not focusing on where she was running, she stumbled off the sidewalk and landed on her stomach in the middle of the busy street. The man that Brennan had been chasing stopped and his own eyes filled with horror. A blaring horn and screech of brakes filled Brennan's ears as a pick-up truck tried to stop from running her over. She got to her knees, but she already knew that she'd get hit. Just as she was about to be struck, Booth grabbed her waist and propelled her forward. The two bodies landed next to the curb.

"Bones! What in the hell were you doing, you were almost killed!" Booth demanded. His voice was angry, but his eyes were worried. Brennan didn't answer him, just stared at where she'd last seen the man; he was gone.

"Bones! Are you okay? Talk to me, please," Booth pleaded. Finally, she looked at him and in a shaky voice answered, "My father. I just saw my father."


	2. Investigations

**A:N//** Thanks to all who are reading! I'm probably going to post a chapter a day, so be on the lookout. I'm gonna shut-up now. Feedback is love!!

Chapter Two: Investigations

"Booth, I know I saw him," Brennan stated again. They were in his office back at F.B.I. headquarters, and Booth was pacing, his brow furrowed in thought.

"It's been a long time since you've seen him—" Booth began softly.

"It was him. When he knew that I saw him he panicked and took flight," Brennan repeated. Booth noted that her eyes seemed darker, and though her voice was calm, she was gripping the arms of the chair she sat in.

"Okay," Booth said not wanting to upset her any further. He was skeptical, but he didn't want Brennan to know. He cared too much. "Let's say it was him. But why would he come here, after that phone call—"

"Tempe, you gotta stop looking for me," Brennan repeated dully. Her eyes glazed over as she thought back to that night. Booth remembered, too. The call was traced to a phonebooth…in New York. Booth had used his vacation time to travel upstate, but after days of looking for some hint of Max Keenan, he was forced to return to Brennan, empty-handed. It was hard to believe that all happened only a couple of months ago.

"He saw me…and he ran," Brennan murmured softly. Booth saw her watery eyes. It broke his heart to see her old wounds being ripped open again. She looked at him and asked, "Why would he run away from me?"

Booth reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. Quietly he said, "I don't know…but I promise you, I'll find out." She stood and broke away from his touch. She nodded, afraid that her voice would betray her and break her down. Booth asked, "Do you want to call Russ?" She nodded and Booth stepped out of his office. Only then did Brennan let the tears slip.

An hour later Brennan reemerged from Booth's office. He handed her a coffee and studied her face. She'd been crying, he knew, but now her eyes were dry. She looked mentally exhausted, but she had most of her composure back.

"Is he coming down?" Booth asked.

Brennan shook her head and said, "No…I told him that I'll call him if anything else happens, but I don't want him to make the trip in case…in case it's nothing."

"You should go home," Booth said. For once, she did not argue, and allowed him to lead her to his car. "I'm going to my place after I drop you off and make some calls, okay," Booth assured her. She nodded and stared out the window, deep in her own thoughts.

_Liar_ Booth called himself. He'd told Brennan that he'd be making calls. What he was actually about to do, he didn't want Brennan to be there for it. She'd seen enough skeletons in the closet today; she didn't need this one on top of everything else.

After a two-hour drive, he pulled up to the barbed wire gates of Waterway Maximum Security Prison. He showed his badge and was immediately escorted in. _Here we go_, he thought sourly.

Booth sat down at the table and watched the cuffed man before him. Across the table, the prisoner wore orange scrubs and had a beard that wasn't there a few months ago. His eyes were bright with fury. The prisoner glared at Booth, full of intense hatred. Bitterly, Vince McVicar said, "Evening Agent Booth. I can trust by your attire and by the time that this is not an official meeting."

"Your right, I'm here for a friend," Booth answered, his voice light, "guess it's a social call."

"And would that friend be Joy?" McVicar asked sweetly. He knew he'd hit a sensitive issue when Booth's eyes darkened slightly; McVicar was pleased.

"Her name is Temperance."

"Whatever you say, Agent Booth. Now what the hell do you want?" McVicar demanded.

"You know, you've should have found a different career after you managed to NOT assassinate Ruth Keenan OR Max Keenan," Booth taunted. "What I want to know is why Max is still in hiding."

McVicar scoffed and said, "We've been through this before. I'm not telling you a damn thing. You think time has changed that? Save your breath; I refuse to answer why I was sent to kill the Keenans, or anything else that happened that night. This thing is bigger than you'll ever know, and I'd suggest that you let it go before..."

"Before what," Booth interrupted, "oh please, like I haven't heard that threat before." Booth stood up and said angrily, "I will find out. You do know that right? And when I do, I'll make sure to be there when you get the needle. The last thing you'll ever hear on this earth before you go straight to hell is my laughing. How's that for thought?"

Booth stormed out and McVicar called out, "Very poetic." Without looking back Booth flipped him the bird. A door slammed and echoed through the empty halls. But there was one other presence in McVicar's room. He felt his hair yanked upwards and his head being slammed down on the table.

He groaned as a rough voice demanded, "Did you tell him anything?"

"Jesus, no, I didn't," McVicar cried out. "Where the hell did you come from, and why was Booth here?"

"Max slipped up," the voice continued, "I got a lead on him today. Apparently the agent does, too. I wanted to make sure you didn't spill your guts." The man released McVicar's head and came around front.

McVicar rubbed the back of his neck and asked, "So what do you plan to do about our little agent friend?"

The man gave him a wicked smile and answered, "He's going to have an accident."


	3. An Accident

**A:N//** Thanks to all who are reviewing. Just a quick note, remember that since I wrote this before the second season, that's where it's set, which is why McVicar is still alive. Feedback is cookies!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That was productive," Booth muttered to himself. He'd lost his cool in there, and ended up no better than what he started out with. McVicar always found a way to crawl under his skin, and Booth despised him with an intense passion for it. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock: 9:57 at night. This day had been incredibly long.

He slowed his speed knowing that ice on the road was more than likely. So far, it had been a rough winter, and the last thing he needed was to wreck his car. Opting for a faster route home, he decided to take a shortcut through the backroads and avoid any possible traffic jams, even though that was unlikely this time of night.

Better safe than sorry.

A short time later, Booth pulled off the highway and turned onto an exit. It was impossible for Booth to notice the black van behind him; there were no headlights. Booth idly turned the radio on and listened to "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin, not realizing that he was being followed. When he hit a bridge that crossed a river; that's when he found out.

Booth slowed his speed, knowing that bridges were definitely icy. Without warning, his vehicle lurched forward violently. Booth's upper-body whipped forward, and it was the seatbelt that kept him from hitting the dash or cracking his head against the steering wheel.

"What the hell!"

Another bone-jarring impact sent his vehicle spinning on the slick bridge, and caused Booth's car to slam into the guardrail. The seatbelt that had been taut before gave out and Booth's head hit the side window. He heard a crack of glass and stars danced in front of his eyes. He nearly blacked out.

"Holy shit!" he yelled. _What the hell is going on!?_ He got his answer soon after; the black van's headlights came on, and Booth knew instantly that he was purposely being run off the road. He suddenly felt the SUV rock. Glancing out his window, he saw that the guardrail was crunched and almost completely destroyed; he was teetering on the edge of the bridge and a twenty-foot drop into the frigid waters below. He heard the screech of tires and before he could comprehend what was happening, the van lurched forward and struck Booth's passenger side forcefully. With the final crunch of metal, the guardrail gave completely and the SUV plummeted into the water below.

The whole thing was over in under a minute.

Backing up, the black van left, with minor front-end damages.

------------------------------------

Watching from a quarter mile away, a man in a blue Chevrolet swore under his breath when Booth's SUV went over the side.

------------------------------------------

When his car hit the water, it was too much. Booth blacked out for several seconds. When he came around again, he could tell that he was upside down and his car was sinking into the riverbed. Frigid water poured in from cracks, and with growing horror, Booth realized that the windshield was seconds away from completely collapsing.

As he reached to unbuckle his seatbelt, the windshield caved in and hundreds of gallons of near-freezing water gushed in. The cold shocked his nervous system and he momentarily froze.

_Move damn it, or you're gonna die!_ Booth's mind screamed. He forced himself to move his limbs and he tried to unbuckle himself.

The lock was jammed.

_Don't panic,_ he told himself. He tried again, and the belt still did not give away. Cold realization dawned on him; he only had a couple of seconds before the water would fill the entire car. He took his last breath just as the water surged over his head.

_Something sharp, find something to cut the damned belt!_ His lungs and chest started to hurt. The icy water was cutting his airtime in half, he needed to do something fast.

He tried to yank on his belt, but he was given no leeway. His arms were starting to become lead-like. His chest burned, his lungs were on fire. He gnashed his teeth together, trying to keep from inhaling the water.

_MOVE!_

But he couldn't. From the thermal shock to his system and air deprivation, he no longer had control of his body. Involuntarily he opened his mouth and inhaled the water.

_O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee…DON'T YOU DARE GIVE UP!_

His body felt like he weighed a ton. A million thoughts raced in his head.

_Oh god, Parker…protect him, I can't now… I've killed so many…am I going to Hell? Please forgive my past…_

_FIGHT, DON'T DIE!_

_Bones…Temperance…she'll never know what happened to me. Seems like everybody she comes close to disappears…_

_Should've taken the highway home…_

And all went black.

-----------------

"What the hell am I doing?" the man muttered to himself. He discarded his boots, socks, and jacket on the embankment. _Because I'm the reason why this started again_.

With that final thought, the stranger dove into the freezing water, ignoring the cold. He had no idea what possessed him to follow the agent. Call it gut feeling, call it luck, but he was right when he thought that Mr. 'E' would try to eliminate possible liabilities.

Within seconds, the stranger reached Booth's submerged SUV. Alarmingly, his air was starting to deplete. Pushing himself harder, he wrenched open the door. The agent wasn't physically moving, just drifting slightly with the underwater movement. Without thinking twice, the man pulled out a switchblade and cut the seatbelt. Now his lungs were burning, and the cold shock was starting to take its toll. Grabbing Booth's sweater, he pulled him out of the wreckage and kicked upward.

He broke the surface about five seconds later. But only half the battle was one; he still needed to get back to shore. He struggled to keep Booth's head above the water as hypothermia started to set in. He looked over at the unconscious man and saw little trails of water stream at the corners of Booth's mouth.

_Ah, shit_

Knowing that Booth didn't have much time left, he spent what precious energy he had left and pumped Booth's chest, praying that he was doing the compressions right. After several tries, Booth shuddered and choked as the river water was forced out of his lungs.

_That's one thing that's gone right tonight_ the man mused grimly.

-------------------------------------

Booth felt himself being lowered onto the frozen ground. He coughed and retched the rest of the water out of his stomach. He felt weak, and it was all he could do to stay on his hands and knees. He coughed harshly and ended up wracking his ribs.

_Cold, so cold_

He shook uncontrollably and collapsed. Dimly he heard a voice chatter, "Son, I'm gonna call 911, don't you worry."

Booth had almost forgotten. He mustered to the man standing above him, "W-w-who aa-are y-yo-you?"

The man ignored him and fished his cell phone out of his jacket. Calling 911, he said, "Y-yes, I'm re-reporting a car wreck out on Ri-river Bridge Road. N-need an ambulance. Man on bank." He hung up before the operator could ask anything else. He started to leave when Booth weakly grabbed his leg and uttered, "Wait."

"Son," the man said through chattering teeth, "you saved my daughter today. My debt to you is paid." He jerked his leg out of Booth's grasp.

"Max K-Keenan?" Despite the cold and numbness, Booth needed to force himself to stay awake.

The man before him said, "There's a reason why I don't want you or Tempe looking or me. Next time I won't be there to save one of you." Booth detected pain in the older man's voice. Booth wanted desperately to keep Keenan there, to tell him that he didn't need to hide anymore, and that his daughter needed him. He had a promise to Brennan, damn it. But instead, his voice failed him as hypothermia gripped him.

"Tell Tempe I'm sorry," was the last thing Keenan said before he left Booth.

_Tell her yourself _Booth thought as he slipped back into unconsciousness.


	4. Threat

**A/N:** An unconventional way to get two people in bed...

Chapter Four: Threat

Brennan was just about to enter that stage of sleep where one was completely dead to the world. She was exhausted and mentally drained. It had taken two hours of restless turning before her mind started to fog. Another five minutes, her troubles would have been at ease.

And then the phone rang.

"Nooo," she groaned angrily. She looked at the clock and saw that it was two in the morning. "I swear if it's a wrong number, I'll stab someone with a fork," she growled. Picking up the phone she answered curtly, "What is it?"

There was a loud crash in the background and snickering. Before she could say anything, a man warned, "Your agent friend is dead. It's what happens to people who mess with E."

"Who is this?" Brennan demanded. Her hand clutched the phone tightly.

"Yeah right, lady. President Lincoln." She heard a click and the line went dead.

Brennan must have broken around ten traffic laws to get to Booth's apartment. "He can't be dead, he's supposed to be home, please, let him be okay," she whispered to herself. She started up the landing of his stairs and cold fear struck her; would she find a lifeless body or would she find her partner and friend, Seeley Booth? She pressed on, her head feeling light.

She came to his apartment door and started to pound on it, and it creaked open by itself. The lock had been broken. Her heart froze. "No," she murmured.

She opened the door further and stepped in; Booth's apartment was completely trashed. The sofa had slashes; all the mirrors were shattered. The walls were covered in graffiti. The floors were covered with papers, broken dishware—everything and anything strewn out. She ventured further into the apartment, searching for any sign of Booth. She tried to turn on the lights, but all the bulbs were shattered. Anger, fear, and panic seeped into her veins.

She came to his bedroom and stepped on glass. She picked up the object and grimaced when she stared into the face of Booth and his son. That's when she felt the gun barrel at her back.

"Don't even think about moving," the voice commanded. It was raw and hoarse, and Brennan didn't recognize it. Instead of freezing, Brennan performed a defense move that Booth had taught her. She turned into the outstretched arm and grabbed her assailant's hand. In the next half second, she snapped her attacker's wrist away from her. With the gun away from her, she kneed the man in the groin and kicked his chest. He collapsed with a groan and she retrieved the fallen gun.

"Where the hell is Booth?" she demanded. Next to her was one intact lamp and she quickly flipped it on. What she saw shocked her.

"Oh…oh my god, Booth!"

He didn't look up, just muttered something to the floor. Brennan dropped to her knees and put her arms around his shoulders. His clothes were literally frozen. She urged, "Booth, what happened?"

He finally looked at her and seemed to know for the first time that she was there. "Bones?"

She looked at his forehead and saw a gauze patch cover his left temple. His eyes were glossy and wide; he was pale and trembling. He was in shock and Brennan saw signs of hypothermia. She touched his face and was alarmed that almost no heat radiated from it. "Booth, please tell me," she pleaded.

He sputtered, "The river…cold…Vince wouldn't tell…god, it's so cold." He started shaking uncontrollably, and that's when Brennan saw a hospital bracelet on his left wrist.

_He broke out of a hospital again._

_Why was he there in the first place?_

"Okay, Booth, I'm going to call an ambulance…"

"No!" he said as forcefully as he could. He started trembling again. Brennan looked at him exasperated and said, "Okay, no hospital. But you have to let me take care of you, you're hurt."

Without waiting for an answer, she helped Booth to his feet and half pulled him to his bed. She worked quickly, peeling off his frozen clothes down to his boxers. When he started shaking, she held him, passing her body heat to his. He muttered, "Couldn't get out…black van…"

Brennan craved for answers, but knew that he was in shock. They'd come tomorrow. She talked to him softly, saying, "Okay, Booth. I'm going to get some more blankets, and then I'll be right back."

One minute later, she came back with a thick quilt from his closet and a washcloth drenched in hot water. She draped the quilt over him and put the washcloth on his head. Yet again, he started trembling. She climbed up next to him and held him close to her body. Blankets don't produce heat; they contain it. And since Booth had very little, it was up to Brennan to create some.

A half hour passed and she stayed like that. Slowly, his shakes became less pronounced. She felt odd, being that intimate and close to Booth, whether she was caring for him or not. _Can it, Bren_ she told herself. _He's helped you when you've needed it!_

Just before he fell into a fitful sleep, he murmured something that kept Brennan up for the rest of the night.

"Max saved me."


	5. Vince

**A/N:** I'm fifteen, so don't laugh if my bad guy/conspiracy skills are a little off. Don't own the characters, just borrow them. A lot.

Chapter Five: Vince

He felt feverish. His head pounded; his throat was raw. He had the chills, but thankfully, they weren't anything like last night.

Booth sat up slowly and swiveled his legs to the floor, ignoring the wave of nausea that passed over him. He drew the quilt tighter around his shoulders and made his way to the living room.

His apartment had been vandalized; but this morning there was nothing on his floor, and some of the worst graffiti had been scrubbed or covered. He heard a CD case clatter to the floor and saw that Brennan was on her knees, putting the thrown albums back to where they were.

He croaked, "Bones, you didn't need to clean this shit up."

Without turning around she answered, "I couldn't sleep." Then she faced him and said icily, "I don't know if it was because I was debating on calling an ambulance all night or if it was because you said 'Max saved me' before you passed out."

She stood up and walked over to the couch. "Sit," she said. Booth did, ignoring the slashes. She sat next to him and demanded, "Tell me what happened last night. Don't leave anything out."

"I won't leave anything out, but I'll give you the condensed ver—" He started coughing and couldn't stop. Brennan put a hand against his forehead and declared, "You have a fever. You're sick."

"Way to go, Captain Obvious." He started again, "I'll give you the condensed version, and please don't kick my ass until the end."

"Why would I?" she asked incredulously.

"To start off, I lied to you last night. I didn't make any calls; I went to see Vince McVicar."

Brennan was silent.

"…and I didn't get any info from him. Started driving home, took a shortcut on the back-roads. Somebody tried to run me off the road. Bones, someone tried to kill me. They rammed my car right into a freakin' river. I couldn't get out…drowning's kinda peaceful once you don't fight it."

His last statement hit her hard and images of Booth being dead surfaced. "Booth…" she was at a loss for words. She tried to imagine him struggling for air and finally giving up…she hugged him. Didn't say anything, just held him. He was surprised, but draped his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, I'm still here," he whispered. They remained like that and he continued, "I remember waking up in the middle of the river choking and puking out river water. And someone was dragging me to shore. Make a long story short he called 911 and left me, but not after I found out that it was your father."

She pulled away from him and asked, "My father? I knew I saw him that day! But what the hell is going on?"

"Something more than I thought," Booth mumbled.

Brennan stared at him quizzically. He elaborated, "I was taken to the hospital, but I left. Since my SUV is currently underwater, I ended up taking a cab home…cabbie didn't like frozen money. Anyway, if someone was trying to kill me, then who trashed my apartment? There was more than one person involved, unless I'm the most unlucky guy in the world and this is the work of some kids."

Brennan said, "I got a call…a threat. The guy said you were dead. It's why I came over here. They said that's what happens when you mess with 'E'."

Booth nodded and said, "Okay, so there's a bunch of people involved. Bones…you're father warned me to stop looking for him. I talked to Vince and he said that this thing was bigger than I'll ever know. You see you're father across the street and in the next 24 hours I'm almost dead—you threatened…do you want to risk it again and try to find Max? Or should we wait until this blows over."

The safest way right now would be to drop it, she thought. But her father was so close; she may never have another chance. She looked at Booth and said, "Do you want to risk it, after last night?"

Booth looked at his friend, knowing that she was fighting for an answer. He looked into her eyes and saw a longing…a longing for her father. He sighed and said, "Yeah, I'll risk it again."

Then Brennan nodded her head and softly said, "Thank you."

Booth said quietly, "I think it's time to pay another visit to Vince."

---

"Sonofab—"

"Now, now, Vince," Booth leered as he slammed the other man on the table. He twisted Vince's arm behind his back. "You're gonna help us, now." Booth started coughing violently and Vince mocked, "You being sick kinda ruins your show. I heard that there might have been an accident last night, but I'm soooo glad that you're alright."

Booth gritted his teeth and Vince continued, "How's Joy?" Vince lifted his head up and searched around. After discovering neither Brennan nor authority, he sneered, "Guess the guards are at the bathroom…do you really think I'm gonna tell you?"

Booth growled, "You know what they do to guys who brain little girl's parents? Hit men aren't well like in jail, in case you haven't noticed. There's a strong chance that you killed a family member or friend of your cell-mate. Maybe I can get you moved out of solitary so you can meet some other inmates.

Vince snorted, "Not scared."

Booth glared and Vince continued, "I told you that this was bigger than you. I won't tell you about the Keenans, or anybody else…except E. I hate that bastard. You get him, all his lackeys disappear and they stop making your life and Joy's hell. Her father can't come out of hiding, but hey, at least his little girl and your bitch won't get whacked."

Booth suppressed the urge to sock McVicar. Instead, he asked, "There's a catch isn't there?"

Vince smiled and said, "Send Joy in here, by herself. Make sure those guards you bribed are still looking at their shoelaces."

"No way in hell," Booth growled. But the door to the interrogation room opened, and Brennan entered. Vince sneered and said, "Well, hello Joy."


	6. What's Your Name?

**A:N/** Shorter chapter. More soon.

Chapter Six: "What's Your Name?"

…Well, hello Joy…

Brennan glared and answered, "My name is Temperance, and Dr. Brennan to you." Vince chuckled and said to Booth, "Firecracker, isn't she? Get the hell off of me and leave." Booth released him, roughly, and left for the door. Before he exited, Booth whispered to Brennan, "I'll be right outside, and I'll see everything that happens. If he tries anything funny…"

"I'll kick his ass," Brennan finished. Booth couldn't help but smile a little. He gave her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder and left, leaving Brennan alone with McVivcar.

"What do you want?" Brennan demanded.

Vince stared at her and said, "You know…all you had to do that day was drop the stunner down the well. You could've known what happened to your parents. What really went down."

"I trust my skills as a forensic anthropologist. I will find out, with or without your input," Brennan declared.

McVicar snickered, "There you go again, pretending to be something better that what you really are. Ruth and Max were like that; I'm not surprised that you are, too."

Behind the glass, Booth felt his hands ball into fists. His jaw was set firm, and he started pacing back in forth. How he wished to bloody up McVicar.

Coolly, Brennan asked, "Who's 'E.'?"

McVicar stared at her and asked dangerously, "What's your name?"

"Temperance Brennan," Brennan said smoothly. She would not fall victim to his mind tricks. But she couldn't help but feel some sorrow; her real name brought up painful memories. Her parents had lied to her; Russ had lied to her, even though it was to protect her. Her entire childhood was false. And now the low-life before her wanted to make sure she knew that.

Vince shook his head and said harshly, "No, it's not. Your name is Joy Keenan. You are the offspring of bank robbers, thieves who ran with a brutish group. Your father made some pretty stupid mistakes, and as soon as he screws up again, he will be killed. 'Dr. Temperance Brennan' does not exist, and as hard as you try to run away from that fact, it will always be there to bite you in the ass. Now, I'm only going to ask one more time before I decide NOT to give you 'E', what is your name?"

Several seconds passed. Quietly, Brennan said, "My name is Joy. My name is Joy Keenan."

Those few words hit Brennan hard. She remembered back to the barn where she broke down. Booth had been there for her, assuring her that he knew who she was; that she was Temperance Brennan, his Bones. Those few words that she just uttered seemed to destroy all that.

Snickering, McVicar said, "You're looking for Eli Boundry. When you see him, tell him that I said 'go to hell'."


	7. Not Yet

**A:N/** Angst warning

Chapter Seven: Not Yet

Booth threw open the door and stormed his way to McVicar. "Pretty ballsy, aren't you Vince?" Booth had a name; now it was time to beat McVicar into a pulp. How dare he treat Brennan like that?

Before Booth had a chance to raise a fist, Brennan reached over the table and backhanded McVicar. Wordlessly she came to Booth and started leading him out the door. While McVicar was spitting out a tooth, she said, "Be glad that was from me and not him."

- - -

"Yeah, I need an address for an Eli Boundry in the DC area…you can call me at this number when you have it, thanks." Booth flipped his phone shut and glanced over at Brennan. She had let him drive her car after leaving the prison.

She hadn't said a word after she stopped him from beating McVicar, or anything for the past half hour. He focused in the road and carefully said, "Bones…Temperance…he was just trying to get into your head. What he said in that room, none of it was true."

He regretted his last sentence when Brennan answered, "Actually, it is true. Vince knew it; I know it. I am the 'offspring of thieves'." Her voice was eerily…calm.

Booth shook his head and said, "You're more than that. Way more. You're an ass-kicking, superwoman forensic anthropologist who gives victims their identities back and gives them justice. You help put evil people behind bars. You're a great friend to people, even if it is completely oblivious to you. You're stubborn as hell, but also brave and intelligent…you are 'Bones,' and don't let some bastard like McVicar make you forget that."

He looked at Brennan hoping that his message got through her walls. She turned to him…and he found her smiling.

Easily she said, "I know that. I just told Vince what he wanted to hear…doesn't mean I need to believe it myself."

Booth felt himself grinning ear-to-ear. He placed his hand on hers and said, "That's my Bones." Smiling inwardly, Booth didn't even feel her flinch.

- - -

"Booth, we should wait for back-up."

"You're right. But he owes me a car." Booth pounded on the apartment door. Twenty minutes from DC, he was given Boundry's address. He had called for backup, but it had yet to arrive. Now at Boundry's door, he could feel anger flow through his veins as he remembered the night he almost died.

The door opened slightly with an irritated voice saying, "What the hell—" Booth shoved his shoulder into the door and it flew open, crashing into Boundry's nose. Booth drew his gun and tackled the stunned man to the floor. He pressed his gun under Boundry's chin as Brennan looked on, not quite liking how things were playing out.

"Remember me?" Booth hissed.

Recognition passed through Boundry's eyes and he groaned, "You're supposed to be dead!"

"You did a pretty shitty job of that. And now you're going to give me answers."

Uncertainty passed through Boundry's face. He shook his head and answered, "What makes you think I'll tell you. What are you going to do? Shoot me? They'll take your badge away if you shoot an unarmed suspect."

Booth grinned evilly and said, "See that's where you're wrong. You see that switchblade on the table? You went after my partner and she doesn't have a gun." Brennan looked on the coffee table and saw a closed switchblade. No, she did not like the way things were going.

"I know guys like you. You're just some lackey. You're tough on the outside, but you're a puss on the inside. I can see it in your eyes. That night on the bridge, you could have taken me out with a bullet in the head. Instead, you had to run me off the road because you couldn't handle any other option. You had other bozos ransack my place beforehand and threaten my partner. Yeah, I know guys like you. As soon as you're screwed, you pour your guts out. Start pouring," Booth ordered.

Brennan saw a change come over the man. He looked scared. He said, "I need protection. Promise me protection, and I'll tell you what I know."

"Fine," Booth said quickly. Too quickly, Brennan thought. He was lying.

"Look, all I know is that the Keenans wanted out and they saw something. I don't know what, but it could put some very important people behind bars. Chain of command ordered me to tell Vince that he needed to kill them. When I got a lead on Max today, all I was supposed to do was finish him off," Boundry spilled.

"What about her and me?" Booth asked viciously.

Boundry answered simply, "Collateral damage." That's when Booth punched him in the jaw. Boundry was knocked out, stone-cold. Booth raised his fist again, when Brennan called out sharply, "Stop. He's out."

Sirens wailed in the background and Booth sighed, releasing the rest of his fury. He stood up and faced Brennan. Quietly he said, "Thanks for that." He pushed past her, not wanting his partner to see his embarrassment for losing his temper.

- - -

Booth pulled up to Brennan's apartment. He parked and said, "Thanks for letting me drive. Guess tomorrow I'm going to find a rental." She nodded and the two exited. He looked at his watch and saw that it was ten after five.

"Hey Bones, do you want to grab dinner or something?"

She smiled at him and thought 'what the hell, why not?' She answered, "Sure. Sid's okay?" Booth smiled and started answering her when his cell phone rang.

"Booth here…what?…are you serious?…did they catch the…alright, thank you." Booth snapped his phone shut and growled, "Sonofabitch."

"What happened?"

Booth looked at her and said slowly, "Eli Boundry was shot as soon as he was taken into custody at the police station. He's dead, Bones."

- - -

"We're no better off than where we started." Booth downed his third shot at Sid's. Next to him, Brennan nursed a beer. She didn't feel like eating, or drinking for that matter. She felt hollow.

"I think now would be the appropriate time to get completely hammered, considering the events these past few days," Booth said. Brennan noticed that his words were not yet slurred and she said, "Booth, I just want to go home."

He looked at her and rubbed his forehead. He said, "Okay." He paid Sid and the two left, both feeling equally empty.

- - -

"Damn it, anybody there?" A man in his early twenties rang Brennan's buzzer just as the two pulled up. The man turned around and asked, "Any of you know a Temperance Brennan?" In his hands, he held a several roses. Booth and Brennan looked at each other before Booth asked, "What do you want with her?"

The guy answered, "Nothing. Some guy paid me to deliver these flowered to her. I was just about to leave for work, but he offered a lot of cash, so I said, what the hell."

Brennan ran up the steps and looked at the roses. There was a message: "Sorry, Tempe. Not yet." Brennan asked, "What did he look like? How long ago? Where were you?"

"Whoa, lady. I guess you're Temperance. The guy was older, brown hair streaked with gray. About your friend's height. Two minutes ago, and I was right here…in fact…I think that's him walking through the park."

Brennan and Booth whipped their heads around and saw a lone man walking, his back turned. He was about five hundred feet away, but Brennan knew who he was instantly. She ran across the street and headed toward the man, this time making sure a car wouldn't hit her. Booth followed on her heals.

They came to a cement square with an enormous fountain in the middle of the park, this time packed with people. She looked around frantically but couldn't find him. "Dad!" she called out, ignoring the tears of desperation well in her eyes. But no one answered her. Booth came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He whispered, "I'm sorry, I don't see him."

She broke away from him and ran across the cement to the adjacent street. She turned in a fast circle, hoping for a glimpse of her father. She saw no one. She put a hand to her mouth and tried to fight back the tears. She would not cry.

And then she saw him.

He was getting into a cab when they made eye contact. She saw pain in his eyes. She started making her way towards him, crying out, "Dad, wait please!"

He held out his hand and shook his head. She stopped, but her legs begged to continue. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks and he mouthed something to her. With that, he got in the cab and left, leaving Brennan fatherless, once again.


	8. Hope

**A:N/** Finale! Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Angstyfluff ahead

Chapter Eight: Hope

"Bones!" Booth rounded the corner and saw Brennan, her hand to her face. He could hear dry sobs as she stared across the street. He came behind her, softly calling her name. When he put his hands on her shoulders she fell back into him, letting everything out. She sunk to her knees and Booth rocked her, whispering assurances in her ear. "It's okay, everything's going to be alright."

She could feel his strong arms wrap around her waist as he tried to find her hands. She could feel his breath in her ear and on the back of her neck. She wished so hard that she would stop crying, she knew that people were staring. She tried to no avail, and she cried harder.

Booth shot a steely glare to gawkers and they seemed to get the message and looked the other way. Seeing Brennan like this nearly killed him, but he knew that letting her grief out was healthier than holding it in.

Like she always does.

He felt her hands take his and squeeze tightly. He pulled her closer, wishing that he could shield everything from her. The strong and independent if not completely people-clueless woman he had come to know and care for trembled in his arms.

"It's okay to cry. It's just you and me now, you can let it all out," he whispered.

And she did.

- - -

Booth sat on the couch in Brennan's apartment and nervously kneaded his palms. She'd been in the bathroom for a long time. Just as he was about to check on her, she reemerged, looking as mentally drained as ever. She sat in the chair across from him, rubbing her temples.

Slowly Booth said, "I wasn't able to get the taxi's license. I'm sorry."

Brennan shook her head and said, "It wouldn't have done any good. He's most likely out of DC now. Why he would come here in the first place, I don't know."

Booth was silent; she was right.

"I'm sorry for making a scene out there. You know as well as I do that I just don't do things like that," she stated. Booth noted that if it hadn't been for the red eyes (or see for himself), he would never have noticed that she had cried earlier. She must have come to terms with all this, he thought, and Booth felt a huge weight lift off his soul.

"It's okay," Booth assured. Then he asked, "You gonna be alright?"

"Before my father left, he mouthed the words 'not yet Tempe'. Do you know what that means?" Brennan questioned.

Booth shook his head no.

"It means that one day he'll come back. Right now, I feel as if I should be hurting, that I still should be crying. But I don't. Seeing his face, something that blurred continually for over the last decade and a half…it makes me feel…"

"Hopeful," Booth finished.

"Yes…my father said 'not yet' and not 'goodbye'," Brennan finished.

A silence filled the air as the two thought about the last twenty-four hours. Then Brennan asked, "Do you think I'll ever find out what happened that night to my parents?"

Booth thought about for a second and answered, "Yes. I know you will. And I want to help."

_I shouldn't draw him into this any further. He's my partner; that does not give me the right to use him for my personal issues_ Brennan thought uneasily.

"I can't ask you to take time from your cases because of my personal problems," Brennan said, "As your partner, I can't do that."

Booth looked at her thoughtfully and said, "You're not asking; I'm offering."

Brennan sighed and said, "Booth…please…you know I'm right."

Booth wasn't defeated. Then he said quietly, "Then ask me as a friend."

Brennan looked at him, and saw the determination in his eyes. They say the eyes are gateways to the soul, even though she did not believe in such a thing. But she saw care, and she knew then that Booth would be there for her, whether she liked it or not. Slowly she asked, "Seeley, can you help me?"

He smiled and said, "You already know the answer to that."

END


End file.
